


of dreams and anatomy

by orphan_account



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Dark Dipper Pines, Depression, Drug Addiction, Flashbacks, Funeral, Graphic Description of Withdrawal, Human Bill Cipher, Illnesses, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Memory Loss, Mentions of Weirdmageddon, Nostalgia, Past Child Trama, Self-Esteem Issues, Social Anxiety, possible ooc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:07:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22602940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Back out into civilization after his fifth visit to rehab, Dipper right away goes to the funeral of his beloved twin who passed from an unknown cause. Reflecting on his past mistakes, he tries desperately to avoid his grunkles in fear of being glared down and lectured. Racing out to an alley he'd never thought he'd be eye to eye with his childhood tormentor after twenty five years, yet something is off with how pale and dull his demeanor is. Why did he look so sickly?
Relationships: Bill Cipher/Dipper Pines
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	1. Released Into The Wild

"Get up Mason, you're being released within a few moments." A nurse called into a dark room, letting the door slide closed behind herself to let the man collect his thoughts and rise from slumber. 

Eyes fluttered awake, growing in size once they were used to the dark surroundings. The once vibrant, almost golden brown had dulled to a rich mocha colour, more from the rinse and repeat of drug usage and rehab than age. Rolling over onto his back he gazed up at the painting of a boat at sea above his bed, a familiar position when he and insomnia butted their heads in a forever stubborn battle for sleep and dominance. Pushing himself up he twists in place, popping his spine and moaning in bliss at the relief. Throwing back the covers to swing his legs off the edge he shivers once bare skin makes contact with cool tile, using the bed as leverage to stand up and look over his room for the final time. Looking at the stain near his bed on the wall, he smiles bittersweetly at the memory. 

* * *

_"Can you_ believe _how gullible Darwyn is?" A bouncing teen no older than seventeen squealed, following the twenty-four-year-old Dipper into their shared room clutching their goods._

_The seventeen-year-old slammed the door behind them, throwing whatever was heavy enough to barricade the door so no one could get in to take away their prizes. Stan would be proud of his nephew for being able to trick the staff right under their noses, clapping him on the back and murmuring praise to attention-starved ears. Dropping the bag on the bed, the seventeen-year-old ripped open the plastic and dug out pill bottles, frantically untwisting the lids before pouring out a few and downing them dry. Dipper followed, humming at the old familiar buzz they always left behind once down his throat, the bitter taste whispering of good times and bad._

_"Open up or we'll sock Erdwin on y'all's sorry asses!" A voice raspy from age snarled, both men looking at the door in alertness even though their eyes showed familiarity and amusement from a similar situation they've been in before. "C'mon! Get crackin'!"_

_"I thought Jack had off for his vacation to Iceland?" The younger of the two asked, meeting brown eyes only for Dipper to shrug in response._

_"Why do you think I have the knowledge to where the hell he goes?" The brunet grumbles._

_"You have the brain cells!"_

_"I don't have access to his schedule,_ Trevour _!"_

_The door rattles, startling both men out of their argument. The door rattles again, the objects used as barricade shifting forward a bit so amused green eyes part of a cute baby face pokes in. What anyone else would find frightening, both men break out into laughter as the blond chuckles in return, reaching in and shoving away the objects with a beefy hand. Dipper and the teen grow silent and pale, grabbing the drugs and scurrying into the corner of the room toward their secret exit. The teen kicks it away, not paying attention and smacking face first into the wall just as Erdwin busts in and laughs loudly at the failed attempt of escapism._

_"Nice job eating brick, Trevour."_

_"THE WALL WAS IN THE WAY!"_

_"You were too busy gawking at Erdwin to remember to duck."_

_"THE_ WALL _WAS IN THE_ WAY _!"_

* * *

Chuckling weakly, he turns away from the stain and the new wall that was placed there a day later. Trevour, of course, had a meltdown and had to be taken to the hospital wing, where a nurse had turned her back and looked back to see he had used a scalpel to slit his throat and clawed at the skin to further the severity of the mortal wound. He was a good kid, had some emotional problems here and there, but he was protected by the others in their wing. He was the baby brother to all of them, well, except for Twain, she was the second youngest and a hardass so no one really liked her. Pulling his door open, he's greeted to a few gifts at the foot of his door (most likely from his wing-mates and three staff members) and bends down to pluck one of the cards from the neat pile. What he expected that the letter was from one of his wing-mates, it read two names he hasn't seen in almost ten years. 

Stanley and Stanford Pines. Grunkle Stan and Ford.

Why did they want to talk to him now when they could've opened that door years before? Was it another written lecture about his fifth visit to rehab and how he needs to get his shit together? Or maybe.. no, they'd made it loud and clear he wasn't welcome in their home or to try contacting them ever again. 

_'Hadn't they gotten a restraining order on me for almost choking Stan to death?'_ Dipper questioned himself, turning the letter over and ripping open the seal to read whatever new thing they had to yell at him about now. Reading a few lines down the page, he sucked in a breath once the word _funeral_ was mentioned. Had death finally had its grasp on Stan and refused to let go? Maybe Ford had blown himself up from overcalculation? Forcing himself to continue reading, he flipped the page over and almost immediately collapsed from his knees nearly giving out on him. 

_'Mabel Pines, 28, of Coldmont, British Colombia, Canada, passed away on Tuesday, July 21, 2041. The cause of death was an overdose on xanax, her funeral will be taken place on Saturday, July 25 at 10 am in the Luthern Church in California where she was born.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyy, I'm back from the dead again! This time it's gonna have chapters! I'm thinkin maybe ten? It depends on how long it takes, we'll see with school. I'll try to get another chapter out next week! See y'all next time!


	2. Tension Without The Affection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was a busy man doing busy man stuffs, paying for my parking rent, taking care of my 1.5 children Jeffery and his brother Darren, b̶e̶g̶g̶i̶n̶g̶ conversing with my wife to pay child support. ¡MAN STUFFS! 
> 
> Anyway, here's the update two weeks late, would've gotten it sooner but.. yeah. Warning for drug usage, vomiting, and a bit of blood.

_The fifth time Mabel heard a crash in the room across the hallway she closed her book and crawled out of her canopy, venturing out of her room and rapped her knuckles on the wooden door. The noises stopped, an aura of desperate panic seeping out from the cracks, freezing the twin in place with a dread so foul in the pit of her gut. They started up again, louder than before._

_"Dip..?" Pushing open the door a crack, a strange noise came from within, making Mabel pause once more in her actions. "Dip, what's wrong?"_

_Letting the door swing open, her stomach rises into her throat at the distressing sight. Dipper was hunched over an old shoebox, teeth chattering from how bad he trembled, pouring pills into his palm and throwing his head back to swallow them like candy. His once bright eyes now blood shot and dilated with horrible addiction so severe that he couldn't function without the bitter taste of pills on his tongue. Gagging loudly he vomited the pills into the shoebox, his stomach empty save for the pills he just tried to consume. Shaky hands grasp the moist meds, shoving them back down his throat and forcing them down while his throat contracts, causing him to vomit in his mouth and swallow with a hysterical look to keep those pills down._

_Her brown eyes tremble in horror, frozen in place while watching her brother's body reject the thing he depended on so greatly that it'd kill him if he couldn't have it. At that moment all Mabel could feel was the suffering of a desperate drug-addicted teenager and a bone-crushing helplessness so great it suffocated her. The life that once was now just a wisp in a broken shell leaking a cold emptiness that latched onto anything in its grasp, that being Mabel, the only light in the darkroom. She couldn't scream, couldn't beg the demon called Addiction to shake his grasp from her brother and leave them be, nor could she move to throw herself into his lithe body to protect him from Death. Mabel could only sit. Sit and watch the stranger that was once her brother choke down stomach acid and pills only to vomit past his fingers and stain the carpet red._

'Red?' _Her eyes widened, lips trembling as a sob broke from clenched teeth._ 'He's vomiting blood and doesn't care. My brother is dying and all he can think about is getting that last fix in a desperate attempt for survival.' _Tears burned down her skin, another sob racking out of her body in mourning and emptiness._

_"You, you, you need help.. Help, Dipper." She stuttered, struggling with words when her jaw refused to stretch open._

_Dull eyes lifted up to meet wet, glassy ones, bloody vomit dripping from his lips and staining the pale flesh a coppery red. His eyes communicated what he couldn't, that he had given up. He'd much rather die than continue to live in this illusion of being ok, of being the little boy his parents knew and loved so much. He was tired, so goddamn tired it was physically draining to keep his head up and eyes focused on his sibling._ _Shakily reaching into her hoodie pocket, she pulls out her phone and quickly dials for help. On the third ring a person picks up, starting to speak only for Mabel to cut them off._

_"My brother needs help."_

* * *

"-ason?" Snapping out of his thoughts, Dipper glanced down toward the nurse who beamed up in return with the look of a concerned mother. "Your great-uncle's are here to pick you up. Do you know your way out?" 

"Ah, yes, thank you." He stuttered, rubbing his arm out of embarassment. 

Walking down the hall, he takes in his surroundings for the, hopefully, last time with a nostalgic sigh. He's gonna somewhat miss this place, of the long nights of stories shared around a table during Poker Night Friday's, or the hint of tobacco clinging to Jack's clothes when he'd offer a cigarette to his favourite patients. Waving goodbye to his favourite clerk at a desk that varied from board games to books to chocolate, Jack and that one tall redhead waved in return, Jack giving the brunet a wink and a grin about as wide as Stan's when it came to money.

Holding up a name tag toward one of the guards, she unlocked the door and pushed it open for him. "You take care now, honey."

Dipper chuckles and smiles in return, nodding her way before turning down another hallway that lead to the front desk. 

_'So close, yet so far.'_ He throught bitterly. _'You can do this, Dipper. They won't try anything as long as you keep your cool and follow their lead.'_ Catching the familiar tan colour of Ford's trench coat, he swallows thickly and shoves his hands into his pockets in a way to keep himself grounded. Coffee ground coloured eyes meet his, almost freezing the brunet to the ground right then, but he pushed forward and stood before his grunkles. A pair of chestnut eyes meet his for a split second, looking away only to glance back and grimace bittersweetly. 

"Dipper, good to, uh, see you. Have you been..?" Stan started, not quite sure how to converse with the nephew he hadn't seen for ten years. 

"Fine," Dipper replies stiffly. 

"Good, that's, ah, good.." 

Ford shares a look with Stan, a twin telepathy that reminded the brunet of his sister and their silent conversations when at the face of danger and the paranormal. Bowing his head down to the ground, he studied his shoes with newfound interest before Ford spoke up. 

"We've decided to bring you to Mabel's funeral, a request she had made in her.. note." The word left a bitter taste in his mouth, making his face twist in disgust. "She would've wanted you to come." 

Stan grunted impatiently, "What he's trying to ask is if you're ready to hit the road, it's a four hour drive from here so we kinda gotta go." 

Dipper gave a small smile, silently enjoying the small banter between both twins that he'd wished he'd seen before he ruined the trust from his family, slowly frowning somberly once he remembered why they truly came here for him. "Yeah, I just gotta--"

"Already done thanks to Poindexter," Stan jerked a thumb towards Ford, approaching the thirty year old and grabbing his suitcase at his feet. "You get to ride back with Jarvy, he'll keep you busy." 

Nodding, he followed both men out the front doors, glancing back to capture the building in a mental picture with a half smile. _'Sayonara, motherfuckers.'_ Turning toward the old cadillac he noticed a figure in the backseat, remembering that Stan had mentioned some company to keep the brunet busy. Walking toward the car and opening the door, a teen sat with his legs on the seat, headphones blasting heavy metal as he snored against the glass. _'This is gonna be a long ride, I can already sense it.'_


End file.
